


Daydream

by skellingfish



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Age Difference, Human bill, M/M, angsty teen romance with a magical triangle, basically all fluff, confused teenage dipper doesn't understand what he's feeling, lots of fluff, somebody stop me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6151150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skellingfish/pseuds/skellingfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper's glad to be back in Gravity Falls, but nothing seems quite right. Time is intermittent. His memory lapses in and out. And, strangest of all, Bill Cipher is serving him coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Return of the Mystery Twins

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in this fandom, so this is all new territory for me. Hopefully this'll be okay, but if there's anything you catch, or any particular character that you think I'm not doing justice, please let me know. Thank for reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan almost commits two murders.

“G’morning Dipper!”

It was Mabel’s voice that pierced his ears, jerking Dipper from his previously peaceful dream.

“W-what?” he mumbled groggily, glancing at the Meow Time clock which had somehow ended up on his side of the room. “Mabel it’s not even seven!”

“C’mon bro, it’s our first day back. We gotta go explore!”

Dipper blinked. There’s something about his sister which seemed different today. A slight tinny sound to her voice, perhaps. Or maybe he was imagining it. He sat up in bed, his head hitting the slope of the splintering attic ceiling with a shuddering crack.

“Ow! Jeez, when did I get so tall?” He ran his hands through his hair, feeling for a bump.

Mabel shot him a confused look. “You didn’t hit your head too hard, did you?”

“No, no I didn’t.” He frowned, pulling his hands from his hair and looking down at them. Something definitely seemed different. But they were the same as they always were: delicate, with thin, fine fingers. Mabel always said he had lady-hands.

Looking up, he saw she had already dressed. He sighed, standing up and swaying for a moment. He felt slightly unbalanced, as if his legs had become a pair of wooden stilts. By eighteen, he had become used to sudden growth spurts. Or at least he’d thought so before this morning.

“Look at that, you’re already ready to go.” Mabel grinned. Dipper looked down, realizing he had slept in his clothes. He’d been so tired after their drive from the train station that he’d said a quick hello to Stan and Ford before collapsing into bed.

As he and Mabel made their way down to the next floor, he glanced around at the Mystery Shack, The stairs complained beneath their feet, but Dipper didn’t think it would wake anyone. Ford slept at the other end of the house, and Dipper figured if Stan could sleep through his own thunderous snores, he could probably sleep through anything.

The Shack itself hadn’t changed much, except for a few extra cobwebs and a mysterious new hole in the roof, which had been crudely boarded up. Looking through the cracked window, he could just catch a glimpse of the woods outside. The abstract forms of tree bows swayed back and forth, casting long, waving shadows on the forest floor. Behind them, the dark shapes of creatures darted around. He shivered. They seemed darker than before, less mysterious and more ominous. Suddenly, Mabel stopped in front of him, and Dipper ran straight into the back of her.

“Shh!” she hissed. “I can hear someone moving.”

Dipper paused. She was right, there was someone down here. Or some _thing_.

He swallowed hard. Their previous summer here six years ago had been riddled with monsters. It had left him with an overcautious nature, and the very thought of whatever could have broken into the shack made him shudder. Mabel inched towards the scratched oak door, pushing it open slowly.

The smell of pancakes hit them all at once.

Grunkle Stan didn’t look up from his hunched position over the griddle.

“Morning kids. Or I guess, adolescents.”

Dipper let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Mabel grinned and sauntered over to the rough kitchen table.

“Morning Grunkle Stan. Thanks for the pancakes.”

“No problem.” he said, idly flipping one. “I made them in the shape of my face.”

“Or Ford’s.” Dipper pointed out, pulling out a chair next to Mabel’s.

She turned to her brother. "I guess you could say their  _stan_ cakes!"

Dipper rolled his eyes. Their grunkle grunted noncommittally, scratching his back with the point of the spatula. Mabel didn't notice.

“What’re you kids going to do today?” he asked, turning around to them. “If you want I can show you a quick way to break someone’s—“

“We’re going exploring!” Mabel said, sitting up straight in her seats.

He let out a bark of laughter, which quickly turned into a coughing fit. “Just like old times then. Hope you don’t find anything _too_ dangerous in those woods.”

“C’mon Grunkle Stan. We’ve fought it all.” Dipper said, watching Stan pile the steaming pancakes onto a plate.

The man averted his eyes, fondling the tassel of his fez. “Right. Well, a lot’s changed since you were here last.”

“What do you m—“ Dipper began, but before he could finish, Great Uncle Ford burst into the room.

“Stan, have you seen my – oh. Hello kids.”

“They’re adolescents.” Stan growled, banging the plate down on the table. Mabel helped herself, scooping five onto her plate shaking the syrup bottle vigorously. The lifeless eyes of pancake Stan (Or Ford, Dipper thought) stared unblinkingly at the ceiling.

“Right, uh, adolescents then.” Ford shifted a little. “Anyway, was there a large jar of white powder around here?”

He pantomimed with his hands and Stan looked uncomfortable.

“Was it on the counter?” he asked.

Ford nodded. Dipper watched Stan carefully.

“Did it look a lot like flour?” Stan asked.

Ford nodded again, pursing his lips into a thin line. “Yeah, kind of white and fine. It was powdered gnome liver. I needed it for an experiment. The toadstools they eat are so poisonous that even a pinch of their liver can make you sick for a week.”

Grunkle Stan glanced wildly from the pancakes on the griddle to the bite that Mabel was about to take. Darting across the room at an almost unnatural speed for a man of his age (and girth), he slapped the fork from Mabel’s hand. She jumped back in surprise.

“Hey kids, uh, maybe we should just go out to Greasy’s instead. As like, uh, a special occasion.”

“They’re adolescents.” mumbled Ford. Stan shot him a look.

“Sure Grunkle Stan!” said Mabel, completely oblivious to the averted crisis. Dipper sighed.

“Sounds good to me.” he shrugged. It would be good to see the old diner again, the town too. Gravity Falls couldn’t have changed too much in the past six years.

“Great. Get your wallets.” Stan growled. “We’ll split the check four ways.”


	2. Cipher's Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A demon serves Dipper coffee.

Dipper blinked, staring out the window of Grunkle Stan’s car in confusion.

“Grunkle Stan, I’m not sure what I’m looking at here. That’s not Greasy’s.”

Stan shook his head. “Ah I forgot, it’s not called Greasy’s anymore. Lazy Susan moved out to Portland a year ago.” He shrugged. “Haven’t been out here in awhile, I hope this new place has better bacon.”

“Right.” Dipper nodded, turning back to the window. “Well this is definitely new.”

The old diner had been fixed up and repainted to that it its walls were an eye watering yellow. It stood out like a pearl among grit when lined up next to the rest of Gravity Falls’ run down stores. Dipper tried to look inside, but the windows were so tinted it was impossible. A huge neon sign stood proudly over the door, it’s sputtering lights spelling out _Cipher’s_ in curly blue.

Grunkle Stan pulled up along side the building, his car like a long, shiny red beetle.

Ford got out immediately, his hands scrabbling for the switch to open the door in a desperate attempt to escape his brother’s driving. Stan rolled his eyes.

“You don’t have to make such a big deal out of it Ford. You’ve been back six years now, get used to it.”

Ford shot him a glare. “You had thirty years to learn how to drive while I was gone. It’s not my fault you didn't take advantage of the time.”

“The adolescents don’t seem to mind.” Stan gestured back at Dipper and Mabel in the back seat.

Dipper kept his mouth shut. Mabel grinned at Stan.

“Your driving is fine, Grunkle Stan. You should see Dipper’s. He mumbles when he drives. It’s really funny.”

“Mabel!” Dipper snapped, but he didn’t linger on the point too long. He wanted to get out and see the strange new diner.

He pushed the door open, trying to stand up. His seatbelt yanked him back down and he hastily unbuckled. Mabel laughed. Dipper sighed.

“Alright, get moving. I’m hungry.” Stan said, stretching his arms.

The bell chimed over their heads as Ford held the door open for the rest of them.

Stan glanced at the sign that read _Please seat yourselves._ before making his way over to a table.

“I call the booth!” Mabel said quickly, sliding in towards the tinted window.

Stan cursed under his breath. “I call it for next time.”

Dipper sat down next to his sister, looking around. The black and yellow upholstery was made of some shiny plastic, which caught the pink neon of the pie display. There was no one else in the store. Dipper thought that was a little odd. If there were a store this cool in his hometown, he’d be here all the time. It was really surreal, staring out at Gravity Fall’s run down street from his comfortable cushioned seat, like looking through a window in time to the past.

“This place is so cool!” Mabel said, peering around. “It’s like a colorblind ’50’s diner!”

“Thank you.” said a cool voice. They turned to see the waiter standing beside their table. He grinned at them. He was tall and slender, a pleasant lilt to his sun kissed face. He wore a suit, close tailored to him, with a yellow jacket covered in tiny geometric patterns which hurt Dipper’s eyes when he stared at them too long. Perched in the center of his collar was a small black bowtie. And yet despite his eccentric appearance, Dipper felt an involuntary pang of dread in his stomach. This man was a threat, Dipper could feel it. Something about him felt oddly familiar, but the answer somehow evaded Dipper’s grasp, slipping through his fingers and falling between the cracks in his mind.

“Welcome to Cipher's.” said the man, his lips tugging into a lopsided smile. “What can I get you?”

“Coffee.” grunted Stan. The waiter scribbled it down on his notebook.

“I’ll have coffee too, please.” Dipper added.

Grunkle Stan frowned. “You sure? Coffee stunts growth y’know. And if you don’t mind me saying it, you need the extra inches.”

Dipper blushed furiously, wondering why his Grunkle always chose the most public places to humiliate him.

“I’m sure,” he mumbled, looking down. He was glad that the waiter didn’t say anything.

“And I’ll have an orange juice!” Mabel burbled.

“Water please.” added Ford.

The waiter nodded, tucking his notepad into his jacket pocket. “I’ll be right back with that.”

As soon as he had gone, Stan scoffed. “How’s he keeping this dump open?”

“What do you mean?” asked Ford.

“I mean look at this place. It’s empty!”

“Maybe that isn’t his fault.” Dipper added, not really sure why he was defending a stranger.

“We’ll see how the food is first.” Stan said, frowning.

“Aw c’mon Grunkle Stan, don’t be such a grump.” Mabel reached across the table, poking each side of his mouth and moving it up into a smile (Dipper thought it looked more like a grimace).

“There.” she added. “That’s much better.”

She let go just as the waiter emerged again, balancing a tray expertly on his splayed fingers. “Here you go, Shooting Star.” he said, pushing her orange juice towards her over the table.

“Shooting what?” she looked puzzled, and he gestured to that day’s sweater, a star trailing rainbows. A look of understanding dawned in her eyes. “Oh!”

“And for you and you,” he gave Grunkle Stan his coffee and Ford his water.

“And finally for _you_ , Pine Tree.” He handed Dipper his cup, his eyes flicking from Dipper’s hat to make eye contact for a fraction of a second.

The tiny sliver of time was like an electric shock to Dipper. It was almost as if the man could look right through him. When Dipper looked into his eyes, it was like looking back a million years. There was no humanity in those eyes, only raw, primal instinct.

Shakily, he took the cup, trying not to spill the hot coffee on himself, and thanked the man. He could still feel his heart thudding in his chest, and he kept quiet while the others.

“What’s up bro-bro?” Mabel asked.

“Nothing.” Dipper said quietly, looking over at the door that their waiter had disappeared into. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm extending the story out into a full fanfic length, which is going to be so much fun! Thank's for reading, I hope you like it.


	3. After The Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper makes a deal.

That night, rain pounded the windows. Dipper curled under the covers, listening to Mabel's soft breathing across the room. After eating breakfast, the twins had returned to the house and packed up for their adventure exploring the forest. However, the weather had not agreed with their plans, and the deluge currently enveloping the shack had begun just as they'd stepped outside. 

So instead they spent the afternoon involved in an intense game of Monopoly with Grunkle Stan and Great-Uncle Ford. Mabel elected Stan as banker, and he had to be immediately impeached after two witnesses (Ford and Dipper) testified to seeing him stuff $2000 in hundred dollar bills into his fez. The game had been put on hold for an hour as Stan Pines vs. The Bank of Monopoly went to trial. After a short deliberation by the jury (Waddles), Grunkle Stan got off Scott free much to the indignation of Dipper and Ford, who blamed it on a crooked jury. Mabel immediately jumped to Waddles defense ("Look at this face. Could this pig,  _this_ _pig,_ ever tell a lie?") Dipper had no reply to that.

No one felt like playing the actual game of Monopoly afterwards, so instead Dipper went downstairs with Great-Uncle Ford. They spent the afternoon trying to replicate the molecular structure of fairy dust. Dipper had no idea what Mabel and Stan got up to, but when he came upstairs for dinner, there was a briefcase handcuffed to Stan's hand and police sirens howling in the distance.

After such an exciting day, Dipper would have thought it would be easy to fall asleep. However, he lay awake, watching the rain trickle down the triangular panes of glass between the beds. Something kept him awake. There was something wrong, he could feel something different about this place. But as hard as he tried, he couldn't put his finger on what exactly was wrong. 

Dipper tried to think back to their last summer here, but a lot had changed since he was twelve, and time had washed the happiness from his childhood memories. He sighed, crossing his arms behind his head, and tried to fall asleep.

 

Monday morning dawned eye-wateringly bright. The Mystery Shack would be open for the first time since he and Mabel had arrived today. Dipper dressed quickly, excited to see Wendy and Soos for the first time in six years. They'd kept in touch of course, but seeing them in person was something very different. 

“Dudes! You’re totally back!” Soos exclaimed as soon as he walked in, a wide grin splitting his whiskery face.

“Soos!” Mabel cried, darting across the room and pulling him into a hug.

“You’ve gotten tall,” he said.

“Taller than Dipper.” said Mabel, smiling.

“Not by _that_ much.” Dipper said, standing up and walking over.

“By almost three inches.” Soos measured. “It’s good to see you Dipper, how’ve you been?”

Dipper started to speak, but was interrupted by Grunkle Stan’s discordant voice.

“Quit lollygagging you freeloaders.” he grumbled. “And where’s Wendy?”

“Here Mr. Pines!” she poked her head through the screen door, her hat slightly lopsided. “Sorry I’m late.”

“If you miss another minute of work, I’m docking your pay.” Stan said, turning his back and straightening his fez.

“Dipper! You’re back!” Wendy hailed, catching Dipper in a hug. It took him a short moment to realize he was a few inches taller than her, and a few more seconds to realize how odd it felt.

“You’ve grown up.” she said, her voice tinged with a sadness so subtle that Dipper barely even registered it.

“You have too,” he said. She reached up so she could ruffle his hair.

“No, I haven’t. I’m still the same.” she laughed, and Dipper’s heart fluttered in his chest just like it had six years ago. It was like time just hadn’t passed.

“Hey Mabel.” Wendy turned away from Dipper, and in an instant the spell was broken.

“Wendy!” Mabel grinned. Dipper turned away as the two started chatting.  
“Dipper.” Grunkle Stan clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder, his knees almost buckling under the force. “Since we clearly have enough help at the shack, could you run into town and grab some groceries?”

“S-sure Grunkle Stan.” he replied cautiously. “Do you have a list or anything?”

He nodded, pressing a slip of paper into his hand, along with a few bills. “This should cover you. Be back by noon when Wendy goes on break.”

Dipper nodded. “Right. I’ll be home soon.”

 

He had debated taking rented sedan he shared with Mabel, but decided against it in the end.

 _It’ll be good to walk._ Dipper rationalized.

There had been a heavy rain the night before, and he had to carefully pick his way over fallen tree limbs. Mud sucked at his boots, and a breeze blew the last of the moisture from the trees. He shuddered as several drops trickled down his back.

The woods were different than Dipper remembered. The slender trunks seemed closer together, drawn into rigid formation. The spaces between them were darker too, and several times he thought he saw shapes darting between them. After awhile he stopped looking, trying to ignore the prickle of fear in his stomach. Instead he focused on the path, and the gentle shadows of the trees swaying over him.

_“Dipper...”_

He stopped, looking around to see who had called him. “Hello?”

_“Dipper!”_

The voice was airy and thin, merging with the rustle of the leaves. Somewhere in the distance, a woodpecker bored into a tree, drowning out the sound. He shook his head, knowing it was probably just his imagination. Then he remembered the words Grunkle Stan had said the day before.

 _Well, a lot’s changed since you were here last_.

He started walking again, this time at a clipped pace, wishing he had driven into town. These were not his woods anymore. Lulling himself into a sense of security had been a mistake. Dipper tried to ignore the feelings of fear in the pit of his stomach, and his heart was pounding in his chest by the time he broke from the woods and finally reached town.

 

“That’ll be forty seven dollars and eighty cents.” said the cashier, glancing down at the register.

Dipper handed over the wad of bills that Stan had given him, receiving two dollars and twenty cents back. He couldn’t help but marvel at the Stan’s hypocrisy. _Save every penny. Except if you’re buying something for me._

Then again, the list of groceries had been short, just a scrawled note saying: “As much brown meat as fifty bucks can buy. Bring me the change.”

“Thanks.” he mumbled to the cashier, gathering up his bags.

He made it maybe half a block before his arms started to complain, pulled down by the weight of the tins. By the time he’d reached the end of the street, where the path carved its way through the woods, his arms were shaking and his collar was wet with sweat. The cool morning sun had seemingly become a beacon of hellfire since he'd walked here, and already his cheeks were beginning to burn.

Dipper stopped for a moment to rest, dropping the bags. They landed on the ground with a solid clunk. He crouched beside him, catching his breath and wishing for the hundredth time that he’d driven.

“Need a little help, kid?”

He looked around, but there was no one near him on the path.

“Up here.”

Dipper looked up. Their waiter from yesterday’s breakfast was perched precariously on the edge of the _Cipher’s_ sign.

“What are you doing up there?” he asked, confused. The man rolled his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter what _I’m_ doing. What matters is whether or not you need help.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.” Dipper said, looking down at the red lines that the plastic bags had left in his hands.

“No, you can't, but I can offer it.” The man slid off the roof, landing in a catlike crouch on the blacktop. Just seeing him hit the ground made Dipper’s knees twinge with sympathy. The man stood up, seemingly fine.

“If it helps, we can make a deal,” he said. “I’ll help you with you bags if you...” He trailed off, staring off into space. Then he snapped his fingers. “If you buy a cup of coffee from me.”

Dipper had to admit, it was a tempting offer. Grunkle Stan’s two dollars and twenty cents weighed heavily in his pocket.

“How is it a trade though?" he asked.

The stranger shrugged. “Business is slow, the economy is down. You’ve heard it before. Plus, you look like you could use a rest.”

He stuck out his hand, which Dipper regarded for a moment before moving.

“Sure." he said, shaking the offered hand.  "Thanks for the help.” 

“No problem.” the man said, and disappeared through the tinted door’s of Cipher’s Diner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at Dipper, making deals with demons already. They grow up fast.
> 
> Just a warning, I might have to go back and rearrange some stuff from the first two chapters because I didn't plan this out and I already regret adding some of it.


	4. Coffee, Cake, and Inter-dimensional Physics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill compares the universe to a pastry.

Dipper clambered onto a barstool, his feet catching on the metal rungs connecting its legs together. He left the tins of brown meat in their bags in a heap on the floor. If Grunkle Stan expected the cans to survive the apocalypse, they could survive a short spell on the floor of a (moderately) clean diner.

“Here ya go, kid.”

“Thanks.” Dipper wrapped his hands around the cup, its heat soothing the markings that the bags had left.

He sat there a moment, sipping at his coffee. Silence stretched around the two of them until he began to get a little uncomfortable.

“I’m Dipper, Dipper Pines,” he said finally, just to break the silence.

“I know wh—“ The waiter cut himself off quickly. “The name’s Bill Cipher. Nice to meet you.”

Bill took a gulp of his own coffee, then gestured to the bags on the floor. “Preparing for the apocalypse?” he asked.

“It’s my Grunkle Stan.” Dipper said. “He’s always going on about the end of the world. He’s a bit...” Dipper almost said senile, but he couldn’t quite get the word out for fear that his Grunkle would appear from behind the pie display to enact his wrath.

“He’s a bit _smart_.” Bill said, tapping the flat of his palm on the counter to emphasize his point. “End times are coming fast. You – or I guess _we_ should take a hint. Maybe try looking around outside of this little bubble of delusion that us humans have encased ourselves in. Maybe _we_ should start using this grey matter to try and comprehend the Armageddon ahead.” He shrugged, looking down. “Or maybe it’s not worth it. Life has no meaning anyway, so might as well not bother trying to save ourselves.”

“R-right.” Dipper said, shifting uncomfortably.

“I mean there must be infinite dimensions to the universe, and look at humans. Can’t seem to look past our own. So focused on the concept of _space_ , I mean when it comes to dimensional travel, there really is no meaning to space. Dimensions are like a—“

He snapped his fingers vaguely, looking for an answer. “ _Cake!_ I just tried my first one last week. Taste is such an interesting sensation. But anyway, it’s like a cake.”

He stopped, and Dipper didn’t know whether or not to respond. He also wasn’t sure whether or not to flee the store, leaving Bill and his coffee and Stan’s brown meat all behind. After a moment it became clear that Bill was not going to continue, so Dipper tentatively asked:

“How exactly is the universe like a cake?”

Bill shook his head. “You really don’t see it, do you? _Pfft_ , humans!”

He set his cup down, straightening his bowtie in an action that seemed more like habit than necessity.

“A cake has layers,” he said, pantomiming a rough approximation of the shape of a baked good.

“And humans think of the dimensions each piled on top of the other, like said layers. But really–“ He compressed the space between his hands. “All dimensions occupy the same space, just with different frequencies.”

Outside, a semi passed the diner, rattling the windows and making the coffee jump in their cups.

“...But that’s just my theory.” Bill finished, shrugging modestly. “I guess no one will ever really know unless they were, say, _an interdimensional being of extraordinary strength and power, who could live outside the strict confines of time and space._ ”

Dipper blinked. He wasn’t sure if Bill had actually said that last part out loud or if it had just projected itself directly into Dipper’s mind.

He had to admit, Bill was pretty fucking weird. One look at his clothes was enough to tell that. He wore a neon teal pullover (which Mabel would certainly describe as “Sea foam, you heathen! Honestly Dipper, have you never  _seen_ a color chart?") A white collar poked over the neck of his sweater, his perpetually askew black bowtie perched perfectly in the middle. Dipper marveled at the face that he could wear that many layers, even though it was nearing ninety-five degrees outside, although living with his sweater loving sister for eighteen years, he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. His yellow hair (not blond, Dipper noted, actually _yellow_ ) flopped down over his forehead similar to Dipper’s. And his _eyes_ , Dipper didn’t want to look too closely after the shock of yesterday, but their color was incredible. Such a warm brown that it was almost red—

Dipper sat up straight, startled by the snap of fingers in front of his face.

“You still there, Pine Tree?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“You just made eye contact with me for like, a minute.”

“Sorry, sorry.” he mumbled, wincing as his voice broke on the second word. Maybe it was _Dipper_ , not Bill who was the weird one here.

For a moment neither spoke, but there was a slight look of pity on Bill’s face that hadn’t been there before

“Hey, wait here a minute.” Bill said finally, and disappeared into the kitchen. He returned quickly with a large pie.

“You’re not allergic to anything are you?”

Dipper shook his head. Suddenly there was a knife in Bill’s hand (which Dipper had sworn hadn’t been there a second ago). He cut a large slice from the pie, shoveling it onto a plate.

"I didn't know it was possible to have an allergy.  _When you're a formless creature of pure energy and time, you can't really be allergic to anything._ "

Once again, Dipper wasn't sure that last part had been said out loud.

“Here. I’m trying a new recipe.” Bill passed him the plate.

He held up a hand as Dipper opened his mouth to speak.

“Don’t worry, kid. It’s on the house.”

“Thanks.” Dipper said, gingerly taking the fork he was offered.

Bill shrugged. “I mean I don’t really like food, so I’m not the best judge of what to serve. It’s good to get feedback.”

“Then why did you open a diner?” Dipper cautiously took a bite of the pie, and found immediately that it was delicious.

“In hindsight, I guess I could have planned it out better.”

He got no reply. Dipper was too busy demolishing the pie. It was just the right blend of crisp pastry crust and sweet berry filling. For someone who ‘didn’t like food’, Bill was a hell of a cook.

Bill watched him carefully, his eyes narrowed. When he had finished, he set down his fork. Bill immediately whisked his plate and empty coffee cup away into the kitchen.

“What did you think, Pine Tree?”

“Absolutely amazing.”

“I’m flattered.” Bill stepped out from behind the counter, grabbling a bag of brown meat. “I guess it’s time I held up my end of the bargain.”

“No, Bill really. It’s fine.” Dipper’s heart sank a little. He didn’t want to carry all those bags himself, but Bill had already been too kind to him. He couldn’t ask him to do this.

“You don’t have to ask.” Bill said. “We made a deal, and I’m bound by that.”

“Wait, how did you know what I was thinking?”

“C’mon, it's written all over your face." He shook his head dismissively. "Humans. Your emotions are as easy to read as a book.” He shouldered another bag and walked briskly from the shop, the chime over the door signaling his exit.

Dipper frowned. Bill was odd to say the least. _Maybe I'm really not the weird one after all_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nah, Dipper's totally the weird one here.
> 
> Also I know nothing about dimensional theories or space or physics or science in general, so please don't listen to anything I have to say in that regard.


	5. Bill vs. Mother Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dipper's suspicious are aroused.

As the sun burned away the morning’s early fog, humidity hung heavy in the air, soaking Dipper in sweat almost immediately. Of course, to him, excessive perspiration wasn’t uncommon, he thought with a sigh.

Ahead, Bill laughed, seemingly for no reason. Dipper reflected that Bill was probably the weirdest person he’d ever met. He was also woefully unprepared for the outdoors.

“Eugh! This is disgusting. I wish you’d warned me.” he complained, mud sucking at his shiny black shoes.

“But it rained last night.” Dipper said, increasingly glad he had worn his boots. “What did you expect?”

Bill rolled his eyes. “Jeez, so I’m not used to mud. What’re you going to do? Imprison me in a dungeon dimension?”

Dipper shook his head. “I don’t think I have the means to do that, nor would I want to. I don’t really understand what you’re talking about.”

Even though Bill seemed to have no understanding of the wilderness, Dipper swallowed a pang of jealousy at the fact that Bill seemed perfectly cool. Even through all his layers, he somehow hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“That seems to happen to you a lot.”

He pushed his envy aside and carefully ignored Bill’s comment. “C’mon man how are you not used to _mud_. It’s just nature.”

“I’ve met Mother Nature on several occasions and let me tell you she is a _bitch_. Kid, the thing is the place I used to live is very different from the place I live now and hell, Gravity Falls is different from any other place in this round rock you call Earth – _it’s actually closer to a pear shape but I’ll oversimplify my word choice for your incompetent human brain_.”

While Dipper’s brain fought his ears on whether or not that last part had been out loud, he tried to process the rest of what Bill had said.

“Wait. _You_ know about the weirdness too?” he asked.

Bill snorted a laugh. “Of course I do! I’m not an idiot. Anyone with two brain cells could see there’s paranormal stuff everywhere. Of course, I guess we’re in luck that most of the town doesn’t have that many, or everyone would know.”

After not receiving an immediate reply, Bill turned back. “Pine Tree?”

Dipper was looking down at his shoes, trying to pull at memories of his first summer. He couldn’t quite grasp them.

“You alright, Pine Tree?” Bill asked again.

Dipper blinked, snapping into the present. “Right. Yeah. I’m okay. It’s just weird having someone else who knows about all this.”

“You’ll get used to it, kid. I’m impressed you discovered it so quickly. You’ve been here what, two days?”

“Oh I was here a couple years ago. I figured it out then.”

“A couple years ago,” One side of Bill’s lips quirked into a lilted smile. “When you were what, five years old?”

Dipper blushed. “I’m not _that_ young. I’m eighteen.”

He jumped as a flock of birds burst from a bush he was passing. Their screeches tore through the humid air as they disappeared into the shadows of the forest.

“Au contraire Pine Tree,” Bill said smugly. “in the grand scheme of things, compared to almost infinite beings of power, your measly eighteen years equates to almost zero.”

“Oh? And you’re _so_ much older than me.” Dipper snapped, starting to feel irritated by the man’s condescending attitude.

Bill froze. “Uh, I’m, um, twenty three.”

“See? Twenty three is almost nothing in the ‘grand scheme of things’.” Dipper made air quotes as he said it.

“Whatever. Age doesn’t really matter.”

Dipper opened his mouth to argue with this clear hypocrisy, but quickly shut it again when he remembered that Bill was in fact doing him a favor by carrying those bags.

“I guess so.” he said finally. Bill didn’t reply.

Now that neither of them were speaking, Dipper could hear the sounds from the woods. The usual deep rumble of cicadas in the Oregon forest had been replaced by an eerie silence only broken by the screech of a far off bird or the whisper of the breeze through the trees. Overhead branches knitted themselves together, forming what looked to be a tunnel. Only a few of the strongest rays of light managed to fight through. They splashed the path feebly, exhausted by the journey to earth. He jumped as an animal cried in the distance, birds flapping madly out of the forest. Their calls echoed through the dark woods.

Dipper was altogether very glad when the Mystery Shack came into view, like a comforting oasis.

“Man this place has really gone downhill.”

“What?” Dipper asked. “You’ve been here before?”

Bill shrugged. “Couple of times. There’s not much else to see around here.”

“I think there’s that squirrel museum just past the—“

Bill gave him a condescending glare. “Do _I_ look like the type of person who would visit a squirrel museum?”

“Well, no, but if you give it a chance you might like it.”

Dipper felt Bill’s judgmental gaze bore into him. He tried not to catch his eye, for fear of repeating the shock of yesterday. But looking into Bill’s eyes really was like looking back in time. Or forwards into the future – Dipper couldn’t tell. There was something timeless about him, and as if somehow, time itself didn’t apply to Bill. He was like the rock in the every flowing stream, unmoving, unchanging.

_But even rocks erode eventually._

Dipper blinked. He wasn’t entirely sure that thought had been his own.

Bill finally looked away, apparently having decided he had directed enough malice in the teen’s direction, and shouldered the bag.  
“Are we going to drop this stuff off or what?”

Dipper fumbled with the keys. “Right, of course, sorry.”

He tried to unlock the door, but it swung away from him to reveal the wrinkled countenance of Grunkle Stan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Grunkle Stan. I'm sure your face isn't that horrifying.
> 
>  
> 
> Also I live to read your comments so please hit me up.


	6. Billivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper asks some questions and eats some lollipops.

Dipper let out an involuntary noise of surprise at his grunkle's sudden appearance, his voice raising an octave. He tried to pass it off as a cough. Bill snickered behind him.

“I was starting to wonder if you would come back at all.” Stan grunted, checking his watch. “You’re not _technically_ late so I can’t be too mad—“ (Dipper let out a sigh of relief.) “—however that’s never stopped me before and it certainly won’t now. Get in there and carry the meat into the kitchen.”

His great nephew nodded shakily. “Right. Sure. Sorry Grunkle Stan.”

He tried to push through the door, but Stan barred his way.

“And who’s this clown?” he asked.

“That’s—“

“The name’s Bill Cipher.” Bill somehow managed to shift all of his bags to one hand so that he could extend the other. “You’re Stanley Pines.”

Stan regarded his hand for a moment before shrugging it away. “And you’re a freak. How are you not _dying_ in those clothes?”

“Should I be?” Bill looked genuinely confused.

“Duh. It’s like ninety degrees.” Stan rounded on Dipper again. “Now hustle.”

He drew back from the door, and Dipper and Bill quickly followed him into the house. To Dipper’s surprise, the appearance of Bill got no surprised glances from Wendy, Mabel, or Soos. They did not even look up, as if it was an every day occurrence to see an oddly dressed man parade through the gift shop. (Upon reflection, Dipper realized that an oddly dressed man often _did_ parade around the store. But then again it was Stan’s shop, so he had every right to do so.)

He led Bill into the kitchen, and the two of them dumped their heavy parcels on the table.

“Well, there you go kid.” Bill grinned. He pushed his hair out of his eyes, and for a moment, Dipper thought he caught a glimpse of something on his skin, a bit like Dipper’s own birthmark. He opened his mouth to ask about it, but decided against it. He didn’t want to make Bill uncomfortable.

“It was nice to meet you,” he said finally.

“You too, Pine Tree. I enjoyed lugging containers of animal flesh with you.”

“Uh, thanks I guess. I enjoyed too, I think.”

“You think?”

“I mean this isn’t exactly my typical Monday.” He shrugged lamely, looking down.

“It’s not mine either, but I know a good time when I see one.”

“Right, well, I just –“ Dipper trailed off, not really sure where to finish the sentence.

“You really have a way with words.” Bill said, flashing him a condescending grin. “It’s adorable.”

Dipper felt himself flush, much to his chagrin. “I – uh, thank you I think, I mean I’d rather not be but I don’t really—“

Bill waited patiently as Dipper stammered out random syllables. Finally he cut him off.

“Just take it as a compliment.”

Dipper nodded. “Alright. And hey, if you ever want to—“ He tried to lean nonchalantly against the counter, accidentally plunging his hand into the leftover bowl of stancake batter. “Dang it!”

Bill laughed. “Nice one, Dipshit.”

Dipper bit back an aggravated reply, wiping his hand on a dishtowel. When he looked up, Bill was gone.

_So much for seeing him again._

 

Mabel bumped her feet against the front of the checkout counter, perched beside the cash register. She set her jaw, concentrating on her knitting.

“Hey Mabel.” Dipper slid down the counter to sit down on the floor, his back supported by the base.

“Hey Dipdop.”

Dipper unwrapped the lollipop he had filched from the stand in the corner of the gift shop. He crumpled up the crinkly paper and lobbed it at his sister.

“Hey!” she swatted at it, and it landed softly on the splintering floorboards a yard away.

Dipper stuck the lollipop in his mouth.

“Do you remember that waiter from yesterday?”

“Yeah kind of. Yellow hair?” She finished a row of purple wool.

“Mm-hm.” Dipper replied, his voice muffled by the candy. “I saw him again today. He helped me carry the groceries.”

“Why’d he do that?”

Dipper shrugged, then realized she wasn’t watching him. “Dunno. It was nice of him though.”

“Yeah, I guess it was.” There it was again, that slight tinny sound. It was the same one as he’d caught the morning before.

“When we were in the diner yesterday, did you notice anything, I don’t know, anything weird about him?”

Dipper wasn’t really sure why he’d asked the question, and he felt a little guilty for questioning the man who’d given him both food and help.

“No, he seemed perfectly normal.”

When he glanced up at Mabel, he saw she’d widened her eyes a little. It gave her a slightly manic look. It was a sure sign his sister wasn't telling the whole truth.

“Really?" Dipper asked. "Not even the way he dressed. Not even the way he called you Shooting Star.”

Mabel’s face relaxed a little. “C’mon Dipping Sauce. That’s just how loads of people are. I mean you live with _me_! I wear sweaters all the time! And I’ve definitely given nicknames to strangers.” She gestured to a man across the bookstore, who wore a perspiration stained shirt proclaiming ‘Mathletes!’ in many mismatched, unhappy colors. “—like that guy. I’ve been calling him ‘sweaty nerd’ all day, and I’ve never met him before in my life!”

“That’s what you call _me_.” Dipper mumbled, biting down hard on his lollipop until it crunched beneath his teeth.

“That’s what I _used_ to call you, until you learned about the magic of deodorant—“

“Alright I think that’s enough.” Dipper interrupted, scooping the wrapper off the floor and tossing it into the trashcan. He missed ( _typical_ , he thought dryly) and had to pick it up a second time. Mabel giggled behind him, which he pointedly ignored. Instead, he disappeared through the vending machine to go and visit Great Uncle Ford in his workshop downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something spooky is going on..


End file.
